


All The Right Questions

by Ymas



Category: The Grand Tour (TV) RPF, Top Gear (UK) RPF
Genre: Best Friends, Epic Friendship, Episode: Top Gear Middle East Special, Gen, Head Injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-23
Updated: 2019-03-23
Packaged: 2019-11-28 17:50:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18211592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ymas/pseuds/Ymas
Summary: When a hit to the head leaves James unable to answer the simplest of questions, somehow it makes the ones he asks matter that much more.





	All The Right Questions

**Author's Note:**

> Remember the Middle East Special; James getting knocked over backwards and opening his head up on a rock? And remember the Audio Commentary?  
> Alex Renton or Russell Edwards (I’m not sure which one of them) shares the fact that for an hour or so, James had no idea where he was and didn’t recognize either Richard or Jeremy.  
> But at least he asked all the right questions!
> 
> Well, this is what happened...
> 
> (Just in case I’ve fooled you: This isn’t what happened. This is what should have happened.)
> 
> \-----
> 
> Thank you to the wonderful [delighted](https://archiveofourown.org/users/delighted).  
> Who helps me keep my tenses straight among many, many other great things.  
> No, I still don't know what I did to deserve that :-)

It’s all James’ own fault, really.

He had actually _told_ Richard to go-go-go, and now here they are, sitting in some desert in Syria, the three of them and a couple of crew, with a sickening amount of blood splattered over the rocks on the ground and James quietly groaning while he presses a rag to his head to avoid it becoming even more.

 

And the camera is still on, because that's how they trained them, keep rolling, whatever happens, _keep rolling_ , and Richard hides his face behind his ridiculously long hair, Jeremy has no doubt it’s intentional, and how could this happen again, on his watch, again, he’s going to kill them one day, either of them, or both, they are so ridiculously careless and always go with his stupid ideas and he wishes his hair was long enough, too, because he's sitting here, holding that stupid scarf up, the one Richard ripped off his own head and thrust at Jeremy, doing anything, nothing really, but anything he can, and he knows it's going to make headlines.

 

How he didn't look concerned enough.

How he didn’t do anything useful.

How he brought them into that situation in the first place.

 

Richard’s eyes flick over to him before focusing back on James, and Christ he looks so worried, and then he says, in a tone far more gentle than anything Jeremy has ever heard him use "... in a desert in Syria" and Jeremy knows he's missed a few seconds, blanked out there for a bit, but before he can pull himself together enough to think, he's blurted out "Do you know where we're going?"

 

And James turns to him, looks at him with zero comprehension on his face, before pulling the rag from the back of his head and looking at the considerable amount of blood it has soaked up. Jeremy wants to throw up.

 

"Why?" James asks in a strangely detached way and Richard nudges his hand and the little gesture is enough for James to bring the piece of cloth back up and press it against his head again.

"We're filming, mate." Richard says in that same gentle voice, and where the small smile playing around his lips is coming from, Jeremy has no idea.

 

"I'm in a TV show." James says. Asks. It's not clear.

"Yes, with the BBC", Richard answers and Jay, the camera assistant holding up the scarf together with Jeremy, shifts uncomfortably.

 

James looks intently at Richard for a few long seconds before he asks: "Do I know you?"

 

Jeremy's stomach plummets straight down to his feet, he feels as if he’s suspended in mid-air and upside down at the same time. He's sitting up straighter on his knees, frantically looking around for the van with the medic and goddammit how have they managed to get separated? He opens his mouth to yell for someone to do something, anything at all, but Richard’s hand shoots across James, touches Jeremy’s thigh in warning and yes, right. Head injury. No yelling.

And fucking bloody hell their record with head injuries is NOT GREAT.

 

"Yes, you do." Richard answers James' question, and how is he this calm?

James considers this for a moment, then asks: "Do I like you?"

Jeremy snorts through his nose because that question right here? So James. Essential James. Being able to work out the important bits even in the most dire of circumstances.

 

Richard looks up at Jeremy through too much hair, the side of his face that is turned to the camera still completely hidden and yes, no, he is not calm.

And yes, they have indeed trained them well, because Iain is still filming but he is not making any effort whatsoever to capture Richard's face.

Jeremy looks Richard in the eye, trying to convey that he is back, that his quiet little freak-out is over, that he has Richard's back, that they are in this together.

 

"Yes, you do." Richard answers, none of the turmoil evident on his face translating into his voice.

 

James is silent while he processes that and then Jay lifts a hand and Jeremy sits up on his heels and turns and finally, finally there is the medic van, coming over a dune in the distance and Russell is jogging up to meet it.

 

“How are you feeling?” Jeremy asks, shifting to sit on his arse because his knee is twitching and his legs have fallen asleep and the arm holding up the scarf is trembling from the effort.

"Sick", James says without missing a beat, turning towards him.

 

His eyes are hazy and a bit unfocused, but intent and contemplating.

"Do I know you?" he asks and even if it's been kind of expected it's still a punch in the gut.

 

"Yes, you do", Jeremy says, trying for a cheer and confidence he doesn't feel.

"Do I like you?" is the inevitable next question, but the short-circuit it causes in Jeremy's brain is utterly unexpected.

 

Because 'Yes, No, I'm not sure, I hope so, bloody hell you have no idea how much I wish you would' is somehow not an acceptable answer.

 

James looks at him, sitting slightly hunched over on the desert floor, rag pressed to the back of his head, peering up at him with pain-filled eyes and never has Jeremy been more lost for an answer.

Never has an answer seemed more important.

 

Richard says "Mate..." and Jeremy knows he's let the silence go on for far too long.

 

"Sometimes", he grinds out, at the exact same moment that James bends over and vomits all over Jeremy's shoes.

And yeah, that breaks the spell a bit.

 

"Aaaaaw, May", Richard says sympathetically, rubbing soothing circles between James' shoulder blades while Jeremy jumps up and out of the way much too late and exercises a considerable amount of self-control to keep himself from shouting.

 

Richard offers up his water bottle to James and James wipes ineffectually at his streaming eyes and then, finally, the van pulls up beside them and their two medics tumble out.

 

There's a flurry of activity, some questioning, probing, and Jeremy stays out of the way while Richard stays very close.

 

The camera assistant pours some of their precious water over Jeremy's filthy, smelly shoes and he scuffs them through the sand to get the worst of the yucky stuff off and what remains he can deal with, he's raised three kids.

 

What he can't deal with is how many questions James answers with nothing but a blank stare and how many more he gets wrong.

Richard and the medic help him to his feet and walk him the couple of steps over to the van, only stopping once to let him empty the remaining contents of his stomach into the shrubs.

 

Then the van pulls away and Richard comes over to Jeremy, looking shell-shocked and standing far too close, and Jeremy has to resist the inexplicable urge to pull him in and run a hand through his hair.

 

"That's fucking scary", Richard mumbles and doesn't Jeremy know it, doesn't he know it but they don’t speak of it, don't speak of that other head injury that happened on the job and so he just stands there, in his disgusting shoes, and looks on as the van strains over the dunes.

And thinks about James, with a headache so fierce it makes him sick, being jostled through in the back.

 

Suddenly Andy is there, and Emily, they've probably come over in one of the land rovers from wherever they were setting up that night's camp, and Andy finally calls the cameras off.

 

They sit in the shade of Richard's Bedouin-tent car to discuss their next steps and Richard sits pressed against Jeremy's side, all the way from shoulder to thigh.

He suspects Richard is doing it for himself more than anything but the reassuring weight grounds him, too, and he is finally able to think clearly.

 

"It's your call of course", Andy says. "But if we transport you back now, the whole two days driving through the desert will be pretty much a waste and we'll have to come up with something else.”

 

Jeremy looks down at Richard and godammit, he's going to cut that hair off himself if Richard doesn't stop hiding behind it.

"I can go on", Richard says very quietly and Jeremy nods.

"Yeah, we can do it. If we can't use the footage, that accident will have been for nothing."

"The show must go on", Emily says, and this time it’s Richard who nods.

 

Andy runs a handful of sand through his fingers, then winces and picks the various thorns back out of his hand. Richard emerges from behind his hair, smiles a bit, even, and holds his own thoroughly prickled hand up in demonstration.

 

Andy rolls his eyes. "We'll make it short, lads", he says. “Just a few more shots of you struggling to get out of here. A sentence or two to move it on, not much talking needed for that. Then we’ll do a quick thing about giving up on the whole sneaking through the desert thing and we'll go back on the real roads. You could do that, Jeremy, right?" Jeremy nods. "Good. Jay will drive James' car. We'll overnight in that town where the clinic is and think of something else for tomorrow. The whole ploughing through the desert thing has kind of lost its drive anyway."

Richard doesn't say anything but Jeremy can feel the relief literally bleeding out of him through their various points of contact, feels him exhale and lose some of his tension. Jeremy leans in a bit more firmly himself, hoping that nobody notices. And finds himself surprised by the fact that he wouldn’t really care if anyone did notice.

 

Emily leaves to take on the challenge of finding out how many of the crew the little Syrian town will be able to accommodate and assign rooms and tents accordingly.

 

Andy, Jeremy and Richard sit in silence for a long while. Behind James' BMW the camera and sound crew is quietly talking among themselves.

 

"How long do you need?" Andy finally asks, squinting at the sun, which is already high in the sky. It's gentle, though. Not a hint of impatience in his voice.

 

Jeremy doesn't answer. He is the boss. Well, next to Andy. Theoretically. Below Andy. Practically. Still. He is the boss. He will do whatever Richard and the crew does. More. He'll lead by example. He always tries to. And he's usually successful.

Richard knows that. Jeremy knows that Richard knows that. It's Richard's call and Jeremy will take it from there.

 

And he's right. Richard doesn't question him, doesn't even look at him for assurance. "You should do something about your shoes, they're gross", he says, and he sounds much more stable than he did just a couple of minutes ago. "And then we're good to go."

 

Jeremy heaves himself to his feet, ignoring the suddenly cold and empty spot along his left side, and gives Andy a hand up.

Richard stays where he is, sitting in the shade, slowly sipping from his water bottle, while Jeremy wipes at his shoes with a damp rag and scrapes some sand over them. He briefly considers taking them off, but the ground is infernally hot and laced with thorns and anyway, he will be the only one in the car having to smell them.

 

 

\---

 

 

Getting out of the desert is still as much hard work as it was before. Only this time, Jeremy doesn't fool around, takes the lead and puts his head and his back into it and Andy lets them use the support vehicles much more frequently than usual and then they film a quick, strange segment that explains them going back on the road and then they are on the way.

 

They try to get word about James in between all of that, of course they do, but it's all a bit difficult with radio chatter and reception and language and they hear that he's being given a brain scan and all they get after that is a 'he should be alright' and yeah, considering the fact that he didn't recognise his mates, much less knew where he was and why, that just isn't enough.

 

When they arrive in the little town, it's already dark.

Emily and her team have managed to find a school with a couple of free rooms in its dormitory building and they are able to house most of the crew there. The rest will spend the night in their tents in the desert, as originally planned.

 

Jeremy and Richard only go to their tiny shared room to change into a clean(er) shirt and Jeremy is seriously pleased by the fact that not only has someone of the crew already found their main bags in the mass of luggage the production team hauls around and brought them into their room, no, they even have gone through his, found the spare pair of shoes and put them on the floor next to the entrance.

 

They don't take the time to shower.

Without a word they shrug out of their reeky, sweaty, dusty shirts and pull on fresher ones, Jeremy changes his shoes and grabs one of his own clean shirts and his ipod for James, just in case, before they head for the hospital.

 

Andy has still beaten them there.

"He's alright", their marvellous producer says, meeting them in the corridor of the busy small town clinic. And almost gets run over by Richard pushing past him and through the door of the room Andy has just come out of.

 

"Well, thank fuck." Jeremy breathes in a heartfelt exhale and stays long enough for Andy to bring him up to date.

Severe concussion but the brain scan came back clean. Stitches. Needs to stay overnight. Filming is on hold for the time being. Whole crew-meeting tomorrow 8am sharp, place yet to be determined, without James, then picking him up from the hospital and see how he is and where to go from there.

 

Jeremy nods at all the right places and repeats all the right words until, finally, with an amused smile, Andy claps a hand on his shoulder, squeezing tight for a moment. "Well, go on then, Jez, don't let the bothersome head of this fateful operation keep you!" Jeremy squeezes a shoulder in return, says “Later” and trusts that Andy knows he’s going to find him for further discussion as soon as he’s seen for himself that James is alright.

 

Then he steps through the door and yes, thank fuck indeed.

 

James is lying on a bed, looking decidedly worse for wear, connected to a drip, oxygen cannulas under his nose and a huge white bandage around his head.

 

But he turns towards the door when Jeremy opens it and smiles slightly when he sees that it’s Jeremy, while Richard, perched on a tiny wooden stool on the opposite side of the bed and with a shit-eating grin on his face, stage-whispers "Don’t let on, mate don’t let on, imagine how much easier your life would be not knowing him!"

 

"Funny, Hammond, very funny", Jeremy says, giving him a two-fingered salute but keeping his voice pitched deliberately low. "How's it going May?"

 

"Do I know you?" James asks, his smile widening when Jeremy steps closer.

 

"Oh, I don't know", Jeremy says. "Do you _want_ to know me?"

 

"Mmmmh", James stalls. "Maybe. But I guess the real question here is… Do I like you?"

 

And it all falls into place, then and there, in a tiny hospital room in Syria, with James smiling at him warmly and with a twinkle in his eyes, and Richard rocking back and forth on his tiny stool, all unrestrained energy and giddy happiness, quietly chuckling to himself.

 

"Yes.” Jeremy says, grabbing the hand James offers. “Yes, I think it's safe to say you do."

 

Richard hops off his stool, comes around and puts his own hand on top of theirs.

"I'd say so", he grins and flicks Jeremy’s ear with his free hand.

"Muppet."

 


End file.
